Second Exile
by Jed Rhodes
Summary: His name is the Doctor. He is legend. A man who can change his face, and fights all the evils this galaxy has spawned with nothing but his wit and his smile. Fate brings him to Moya - and he brings Death in his wake. Crossover with - well, just guess, hm?
1. Arrival

"Intruder vessel on Moya," Pilot called out, his voice sounding. "Intruder in the cargo bay!"

Almost instantaneously, Crichton, Aeryn, D'argo and Chiana were on their way down there.

"Wait," Pilot called out. "There's a second intruder on the lower levels – another ship!"

"Was there a collision?" Aeryn called out.

"No," Pilot reported. "No collision. The intruder is on tier seven."

"I'll handle it," Aeryn said, moving off.

"Right – Pip, D, you're with me," Crichton told the others. "We're gonna sort this out. Zhaan, stay on the command deck, and monitor everything."

"But what if you –?" the blue Delvian started protesting.

"We need you, we'll call you," Crichton promised.

Then he, D'argo and Chiana ran for the cargo bay.

--

When he walked out of the door of the blue box, he wasn't really surprised to find three people aiming weapons at him. He wasn't wearing anything too valuable at any rate – just his usual jeans, black "Darth Vader Was Framed" t-shirt and black overcoat. This life had been good to him. Forty something in appearence, he was going slightly silver, but apart from that he was happy with the hair he had. The body he had. The life he had. No reason to change it now.

"Hello," he said. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Well, no" one of the three figures, a human seeming man in a black leather waistcoat said, in a suspiciously American sounding accent. "Apart from land in our ship without asking, you didn't do a goddamn thing wrong."

"Sorry, I can't really give much warning," he told the assorted figures. "I say, aren't you a Nebari?" he added, talking to the young grey-skinned girl.

"Yeah, what's it to ya?" she replied, looking defiant.

"Nothing much," the Doctor told her - he addressed them all, raising his voice. Authoritarian tactics usually worked this side of the universe. "Only you'd better not be trying any of your mental cleansing stuff here. Because rest assured, if you are…"

"She isn't," the human-esque man said. "And even if she was, you are in no position to threaten anyone. Who are you anyway?"

"I am the Doctor."

Chiana looked shocked for a moment, then quickly recovered.

"Doctor who?"

The Doctor smiled at that.

"Everywhere I go, everyone sees the need to ask me that question."

"Maybe 'cos it's a good one," the American sounding human-esque man said. "And you'd better answer or we'll start getting' trigger happy."

The Doctor smiled again.

"Even if you did shoot, you couldn't hurt me," he said. "Well, you could – in fact you'd probably kill me - but I'd just come back better looking."

"What are you wearing?" the human (and he was a human - no alien he ever met had such a strong American accent anywhere in the universe, unless they were American. That and the smell) asked him. "'Darth Vader…'?"

"Was framed, yes," the Doctor replied. "Got it on a recent shopping spree. Well, I say recent – not really recent, but relatively recent."

"Well good for you," the third figure – a Luxan by the look of him - interrupted. "Now – what the frell are you doing here?!"

The Doctor fixed him with a stare – a stare that made it clear (he hoped) that he was on an important mission.

"About that…"

--

Aeryn approached the man carefully. He hadn't noticed her, and his back was turned to her. He was wearing what appeared to be a black jumpsuit. She was being as careful as possible, but she still had her gun aimed - better safe than sorry.

"If you think," the man suddenly said, startling her, "that you can just sneak up on me, you're sadly mistaken. _Nobody_ sneaks up on me, and certainly not someone as _primitive_ as you."

He still hadn't turned around.

"Who are you?" Aeryn demanded.

"A lonely wanderer," the man said. "I was being chased by the man who's landed upstairs. I did something I really ought not to have and he took offence. Mind you, _he_ always does..."

"I said, who are you?!" Aeryn yelled.

The man turned. He was thin, with short, cropped black hair, and a small black goatee. His eyes were black and commanding.

"I am the Master," he told her, his eyes blazing, "and you will obey me."

She stared into his eyes a moment longer, then thumped him across the face with her rifle.

"Not likely," she told him. "Frelling idiot."

--

"The Master?" D'argo repeated.

"It's what he calls himself," the Doctor replied. "And I call myself the Doctor. Who, might I ask, are you?"

"I'm John Crichton," John said. "The grey girl's Chiana," at that, the Doctor looked at the Nebari again, with an expression of interest, "and the… tentacle –ey guy is D'argo."

D'argo growled.

"Right," the Doctor smiled. Then his face snapped back into being serious. "Where did you pick up the Masters' landing?"

"How do you know we did?" D'argo asked, suspiciously.

"Because I tracked him here," the Doctor replied. "I wanted to stop him, because I need to."

"Why?" Chiana asked.

"Well," the Doctor said sarcastically, "only because he's the single most dangerous creature in all of existence."

"Not likely," D'argo said. "We've met worse."

"Now that's unlikely," the Doctor countered. "He has seen the whole of creation endangered just so he can rule it, nearly caused the end of the universe, _lived_ at the end of the universe, has tried to destroy Earth -"

"Whoa, back up there," Crichton said. "Tried to destroy Earth?"

"Many times," the Doctor nodded.

"Ok," Crichton said. "He's dead."

Crichton stood up, just as Aeryn walked in, carrying a man in her arms.

"This is the intruder," she informed them. "This guy tried to hypnotise me."

"Yes, this is him," the Doctor said. "This is definitely him."

He leant over the Master and tried to ascertain his status, when suddenly, the seemingly unconscious Master grabbed him, and pressed something into his back.

"Don't move!" he yelled to the others. "One move, he's dead."

"Don't let him escape," the Doctor hissed. "Shoot him, it doesn't matter about me."

"I have a laser screwdriver," the Master hissed ion the Doctors' ear. "You get hit by that, you're as good as dead."

"Let him go!" Chiana yelled. "Please!"

"What?" Crichton looked at Chiana like she was insane. "What's wrong?"

"Don't hurt the Doctor!" Chiana yelled.

"Why not, little girl?" the Master sneered. "Well don't worry, I'm sure he'll live – and now, I'm outta here!"

There was a high pitched bleep, and then the Doctor slumped to the floor and the Master ran off, heading for the access point for tier seven. Aeryn and D'argo ran after him. The Doctor turned himself around, until he was facing Crichton.

"Stand me up," he said.

"Why?" Crichton asked.

"Stand me up," the Doctor snapped. "It's important!"

"Why?!" Crichton yelled again.

"When..." the Doctor began, then took a breath and stood himself up, before continuing. "When members of my species are injured, mortally, they undergo a process, by which they repair all damage done to their body – and their body alters and becomes, effectively, a _new_ body. Not just the body, but the mind as well, undergoes alteration. Personality, opinions, even abilities are altered with the mind. Only memories and core personality traits remain – the good man will remain good, the evil man evil."

"Sounds freaky to me," Crichton said. "You didn't mention anything like this before."

"I never do," the Doctor smiled, "unless I need to. And right now, I need to."

His smile faltered. His face glowed gold. He looked them in the eyes and then, impossibly, the glow spread across his body, covering his face and hands, building up, and before anyone could speak, the Doctor was burning. The light flowed, like a volcano, spraying out across the room. Then Crichton saw – the Doctors' face was changing, morphing into something else.

Then, as suddenly as it had started, the energy stopped. The Doctor was standing there, breathing hard.

He was younger, younger even than Crichton – maybe younger than Chiana. His hair was reddish brown, and so were his eyes. He looked at them, and smiled.

Then he collapsed.

--

The Master ran into the massive chamber, and hid as the Sebacean and the Luxan ran past. Then he was interrupted by a prim voice talking firmly at him.

"Just what," it said, "do you think you're doing?"

The Master turned to look at the ships Pilot, a crustacean life form linked into the ships systems.

"Ah, hello," he said. "I'm just hiding from your friends. They seem rather trigger happy, and while getting shot isn't quite as deadly to me as it might be to you, I have been shot quite enough in my lifetimes."

"What are you talking about?" the Pilot asked.

"Never mind, I wouldn't expect a lower creature to understand," the Master sighed. "But… can I let you in on a secret?"

"What secret?" Pilot asked.

"It's a really secret, secret," the Master whispered, coming closer to Pilot. "Really secret."

He leaned into Pilots cockpit and put his mouth next to the aliens ear.

"HERE COME THE DRUMS!!" he yelled, and Pilot recoiled back, just as the Master pressed a button. If he was right, that button would convince everyone that the ship was under attack (if he was right, but he invariably was), and he could make his escape.

But not in his TARDIS…

--

"What the frelling hell?" Crichton yelled. "How can a guy just… just… change, like that?"

"He's an interesting species John," Zhaan said, leaning over the Doctor. "He appears to have a Lindal gland, a bio regenerative Imprimatur, and dual Cardiovascular system…"

"Binary Vascular System," the Doctor piped up, his eyes popping open. "Actually."

He sat up, and looked around, taking in everything.

"New eyes work," he muttered. "Lucky really, 'cos I'd thrown all my glasses out."

He stood up, and looked around at all the faces. Chiana wasn't looking at him. Zhaan was studying him with what amounted to professional interest. Crichton just looked annoyed.

"Well, my new legs work as well as the old ones," he muttered at last. "Ok. Not helping. I know what works, so I need to know if anything doesn't."

And then, without warning, he raised his head and yelled. Everyone covered their ears, and looked at him as if he was crazy, but then he began singing.

"Oh, the grand old duke of York, he had ten thousand men," he sang, and skipped off down the corridor.

"He's nuts," Crichton commented.

"No argument there," Chiana agreed. "He's as Farhbot as anyone I've ever met."

"To put it lightly," Zhaan agreed. Crichton looked at her in mild surprise. "Well," she added defensively, "his species seems to be the strangest life form I've ever seen. This form of self healing especially - it can only be a form of insanity he experiences now. How else can one feel when one has suddenyl changed into a completely different person, and yet is the _same _person_?_"

"Good question," Crichton said. "Not one I'm gonna be able to answer, though. Pilot, any sign of the other guy?"

Pilot didn't answer for a moment, then finally. "He came here." Pilots voice was weak, and he sounded like he was in great pain.

"Pilot, what has happened?" Zhaan asked.

"The man - who called himself the Master..." Pilot said weakly. "He came here... myself, and... Moya, we've been... Psychically attacked. Somethin - _fzzz_ -at the Master did to us..."

"What?" Chiana asked. The line was bad, and they could barely hear Pilot. There was something else too, infecting the transmission, a sound.

"Can't you hear it?" Pilot asked. "Can't you hear them?"

"Hear what, Pilot?" Crichton asked. Pilot looked at him from the clamshell - he looked more in pain than anyone had ever seen him.

The noise in the transmission got louder, and louder, thrumming... _duh, duh, duh, dum. Duh, duh, duh, dum. Duh, duh, duh, dum. Duh, duh, duh, dum. Duh, duh, duh, dum. Duh, duh, duh, dum. Duh, duh, duh, dum. Duh, duh, duh, dum... _

"The drums," Pilot said.

--

The Doctor was looking at the place where his TARDIS used to be.

"Bugger," he said, quietly. "Bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger..."

He had left the door open when the crew of this ship had cornered him. The Master had come here. He'd stolen the TARDIS. Again.

Chances were, he'd also have disabeld his own, or gotten rid of it. The Doctor could fix whatever damage the Master had done, but it would take him forever.

_Damn._

"Hold it," a voice said, female, coming from behind him, aiming a gun at him. Not Chiana, he could tell.

"Don't be ridiculous," he said softly. "I'm not armed, and I'm as trapped here as you and the others."

She grabbed him and spun him around. The Peacekeeper.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

"I am the Doctor," he muttered. "As if that matters at the moment."

"You aren't, you look nothing like him," Aeryn Sun said.

He grinned at her. "That," he said, "is a long, boring story..."

Then the facade broke. He sat down, and put his head in his hands, and sobbed. His TARDIS was gone - here he was, once again, trapped. How could he bear it...?

--

"Is he alright?" Chiana asked. "Is he ok?"

"Yes, he's fine," Aeryn reported. "He just keeps crying and muttering about having 'lost her'..."

"Well, keep him guarded," Crichton said. He turned to Chiana. "So. How do you know this guy?"

She glared at him.

"Who said I do?"

"You did," Crichton replied, "when you did the whole 'don't hurt him' routine, when the Master had him prisoner."

"Well," Chiana said, "maybe he is important. Maybe I do know him."

"So?" Crichton asked.

"So what?"

"Who is he?"

"I don't know!!" Chiana yelled. "Nobody does. Not a single person in the whole uncharted territories."

"Then how do you know him?" Crichton insisted.

Chiana leant back in her chair, and sighed.

"Me and Nerri got into a lot of trouble a while ago," she began. "We were being chased, and all of a sudden this guy in a coat steps out and says 'these are with me, I'll sort 'em out'. The bad guys go away and this guy - he says to me and Nerri, he says 'go'. When we ask who he is, he just says, 'I'm the Doctor,' and he runs off. We never saw him again, but we looked, because he might be handy in a tricky situation. So we ask around at a few spaceports."

"And?" Crichton asked.

"All we ever found out was, this guy is a legend - and dangerous," Chiana said, and nothing more.


	2. Drumbeat

Zhaan studied him, as he sat by himself in his cell. He was sitting, legs crossed, eyes closed, chanting something. The noise came out as inane babble, that the translator microbes couldn't work out.

"What's he saying?" Chiana asked.

"It appears to be a religious chant," Zhaan replied softly. "I don't know what it signifies."

"It is the chant of the temporal engineer," the Doctor put in, his hazel eyes opening to encompass them. "I am a Lord of Time, and, as such, I must guide the eddies of the great river."

"Great river?" Chiana echoed.

"The Time/Space Vortex," the Doctor smiled. "Some time ago, I accepted this duty - becuase if not for my people, the multiverse would perish."

"Somewhat presumptious," Zhaan said.

"Simple fact," the Doctor said. "In reality, time and space can mostly take care of itself, but with most of my people gone... I am all that is left to hold the breaches in reality in check. Unless you're happy with the idea of getting eaten by evil multidimensional beings, but..."

"'Lord of Time'?" Chiana repeated.

"My species, the Time Lords," the Doctor said. "We are - or were - the guardians of temporal stability. All they ever really did was ponce about in robves, but we still played an important role."

"And what about you?" Zhaan asked.

"I was to my people what your friend is to hers," the Doctor said, indicating Chiana. "An outcast, a rebel, a miscreant. They tried to kill me twice, exiled me once. And here I am, exiled again..."

"It's not that bad here," Chiana smiled. "Is it?"

"When you're used to the freedom of all reality," the Doctor said grimly, "it is intolerable."

--

"What are the drums, Pilot?" Crichton asked.

He and Aeryn were in Pilots den, trying to help him.

"We don't know," Pilot responded slowly, "but I think... I think we're getting used to them now."

"What are they doing?" Aeryn asked. "Are they hurting you?"

"No," Pilot said, "they're merely... playing."

"What do they sound like?" Aeryn asked softly.

The answer came not as words, but as a soft tapping, as the regular hum of Moya's internal systems was replaced by the steady _duh, duh, duh, dum... _over and over again.

"Can you hear it?" Pilot asked, almost hissing the words out. "Oh, they're so loud..."

And then he screamed, and he didn't stop for a long time.

--

_"Happy yesterday to all, we were born to die..."_

"Typical," the Doctor muttered as he walked into the Masters' TARDIS. "Scissor Sisters. And he's knackered everyrthing. And boy, do I mean everything."

He had let himself out of his cell, and found the TARDIS after a long while of searching. A long while. He ran his hand on the smashed and burnt console. The wreck of a classic TARDIS console room, in mat black. The wreck of his last chance.

"Oh hell," he muttered. "This'll take me forever to fix."

"Doctor?" someone was calling. "Are you there?"

"I'm in here!" he called out. He'd left the door open, so whoever it was, they could get in. A moment later, Chiana and Crichton walked in. A moment after that, they ran out. Another moment after that, they walked back in again, slowly.

"I'm Fahrbot," Chiana said, slowly. "I must be."

"Not unless you ate the same magic mushroom I did," Crichton murmured. "It's..."

"Bigger on the inside," the Doctor snapped, before going off into a rant, "a Time And Relative Dimension In Space Time Travel Capsule, Type Fifty Two, Mark Four, significantly improved on my own, with enhanced scanners and food amchines and practically everything else. All in all, a well rounded machine, apart from one crucial factor."

"What?" Chana asked. The Doctor replied by smiling at her, then kicking the console and yelling.

"It doesn't spacking work!!" he screamed. "He broke almost everything! The complete and utter Lok-tar Morakai!!"

"The say what?" Crichton repeated.

"It's an insult on the planet Lootaria," the Doctor hissed. "Simultaneously questions ones body odour, ones parentage, ones intellect and ones significant other or lack thereof."

"Which part does which?" Crichton asked.

"No idea." The Doctor turned back to the console and sighed. "I guess, for the duration, I'm tuck here, with you lot."

"Hey, it's not so bad, Doctor," Chiana said. "We have crazy adventures too..."

"Hell, yeah," Crichton added. "We do all sorts of crazy stuff around here. Frelling nuts."

The Doctor turned and smiled at them.

_"Tomorrows not what it used to be, we were born to die..."_

"It isn't the adventures," he said, "it's the freedom. Freedom is what keeps me going. Without it... you might as well chain me up."

"Crichton," came a voice on the comms, interrupting the moment. "Its Aeryn. Get up here, Pilot needs help."

--

The Doctor could feel the Masters work in the tortured creatures mind, even as he walked up to him.

"They won't stop!!" Pilot was yelling. "Please! Make them stop!!"

_The drums Doctor. Will they stop? Will the drums stop?_

"Calm yourself," he said to Pilot. He walked up to him and held his face in his hands. "Be calm. Calm."

_Only hatred keeps me alive._

"Why... why won't they stop?!" Pilot yelled.

_The drums the drums the never ending drum beat..._

"They will," the Doctor promised.

_I... am... the Master!_

And the drums stopped. The Doctor smiled at Pilot, who regarded him with something akin to wonder, then the Doctor collapsed for the second time that day.

--

"His body isn't used to all the stress that its being put upon," Zhaan said. "It's dying."

"Can't he just rejuvenate again?" Crichton asked.

"No," Zhaan said. "There's something wrong with the process, he can't do it. I don't know whether I can help him, but I think it best if you go now, to let me try."

Most of them left, but Chiana stayed behind.

"He'd not gonna die, is he?" she asked softly.

"I don't know," Zhaan snapped. "Now, please, give him some room."

Chiana stared at the unconscious man, and then left, slowly, sadly.

The Doctor remained unconscious.


	3. Old foes of the metal kind

_**Time. **_

_**And. **_

_**Relative.**_

_**Dimension.**_

_**In.**_

_**Space.**_

_--_

_He opened his eyes. This place was empty, for the most part. White._

_"Great," he muttered. "Where have I landed now?"_

_"I was about to ask the same question," someone else spoke._

_He looked over, and saw himself. Not, obviously, his current self, but his Tenth Incarnation._

_"Hello!" the younger Doctor said, grinning inanely._

_"Hello," the Doctor said. "What are you... where is here, for a start?"_

_"Your subconscious," the Tenth Doctor replied. "I think. I might be wrong about that, but I don't think I am."_

_"What am I doing here?" the Doctor asked._

_"Weeeeeell," his other self replied, "I think - I might be wrong, but I think - you're dying. Thirteenth Incarnation and all."_

_"Oh," the Doctor said. "Bugger."_

_"I'll say," the Tenth Doctor said. "Now, I'm gonna let you in on a little secret."_

_"What?" the Doctor asked._

_"The Master," the Tenth smiled, "dumped the TARDIS. Even as we speak, she's coming back."_

_"Why..." the Doctor began, then swallowed. "Why would the Master do that? He's trapped whenever he is now."_

_"You think he hasn't got his own TARDIS?"_

_"He left it on Moya," the Doctor said. The Tenth regarded him for a moment._

_"Why didn't you say, 'he left it here'?" he asked eventually._

_"Because," the Doctor said, "'Here' isn't Moya by a long shot."_

_The Tenth Doctor smiled again, wider this time._

_"You really are quite good at this, aren't you? He shifted his TARDIS. Remote control."_

_--_

He shot up, gasping for breath. For a moment, he thought that he had regenerated, but not again. He was fine. Intact.

The lingering voice of his past spoke to him.

_"If I were you, I'd get some new clothes on..."_

The Doctors' head swiveled to the left, and he smiled when he saw the great big blue box.

"Somebody out there loves me," he muttered, he ran inside, but didn't get more than half a metre before the whole thing shuddered.

"Oh now what?" he snapped, putting his head outside the door.

A little green creature was floating around on a hoverchair, looking right at him.

"Oh, you're awake, are you?" it said. "I am Rygel the XVII, of Hyneria..."

Almost immediately, the Doctor dropped to his knees and bowed his head.

"I humbly submit my service to you, oh wise and gracious one," he said, reciting the usual Hynerian custom.

Rygel stared at him for a moment, then began his part.

"Speak, you who would do me service."

"I, the Doctor, seek to pass you, and aid the crew of this ship, who, though unworthy of thy glorious presence, have done me service and thus are owed a debt by me."

Rygel looked pleased by the Doctors' speech, so he moved aside.

"Friend of Hyneria, pass," he said, "and may we meet again."

"By the Hynerian Gods, I thank thee, oh noble one," the Doctor smiled and ran off. Rygel bobbed a bit, before heading to his quarters.

"What a nice fellow," he muttered.

--

"What the frell...?!" Aeryn shouted. "What is that thing?!"

On command, she and Zhaan watched a familiar but... somehow _wrong_ feeling ship approach Moya.

"It appears to be a Peacekeeper Command Carrier," Pilot said from the clamshell, "but there are several strange energy readings..."

"Are the others up yet?" Zhaan asked.

"Commander Crichton, D'argo and Chiana will be there shortly."

"And you have one Time Lord up and at 'em now!" came a familiar voice frrom behind them. The two women turned and found themselves facing the Doctor. He was smiling, dressed in a pair of light brown combat pants, and a white shirt, complete with white sports shoes. Not that they cared.

"By the Goddess, I thought you were dead!" Zhaan said.

"You wouldn't be the first to make that assumption," the Doctor said. "Nor would you be the last."

"Look," Aeryn said, interrupting them, "it's all very well that you're alive, but can you tell us what that is?"

The Doctor looked at the screen, and scrutinised the ship.

"Unusual energy readings?" he asked.

"Yes," Pilot said from his clamshell. "Incidnetally, Doctor, I wanted to say... thank you."

"Don't mention it," the Doctor smiled. "Save lives all the time, that's me."

He studied the energy readouts of the Command Carrier, then looked at it again, then... he panicked.

"Get us away from it," he said. "Get us far away from it!"

"We can't!" Pilot said. "Moya cannot Starburst for another arn."

"They are attempting to contact us," Pilot said.

"Put it on," the Doctor murmured. A face, blank, silver, emotionless, stared at them from the screen.

"What the frell is that thing?" came an irreverant voice from behind them. Chiana, D'argo and Crichton walked onto Command, in time for the creature to speak.

"**We are the Cybermen**," it said. "**And you will be converted**."

The Doctor stared at it for a moment, then held up a small pen-like device and the screen snapped off.

"What's that thing?" Chiana asked.

"Sonic scredriver," the Doctor said. "Now listen, I have a plan..."

--

The Cyber Boarding party arrived, with military (and some would say, computerised) precision. When they got there, there were no resistance units, no hostile actions. They noted this as logical surrender, and marhced into the ship, when they heard a noise.

_"Theres a couple sunbathing on a freshly mown lawn in england..."_ it went. The Cyberleader looked at it's units, then executed an order.

"**Locate the sound and terminate it.**"

Three units acknowledged his command, and went off. The rest (sixteen all told) continued to follow him deeper into the ship.

_"Now, I was told not to play with fire," _the sound continued. "_I said, look out church the flames grow higher..."_

"**I ordered that noise terminated,"** the Cyberleader said.

_"I said, watch those flames lick that spire,"_ the noise continued, as if arguing_. "I said, look our church the falmes grow higher t__he worlds on fire!"_

"**This is illogical," **the leader said. "**Where are the humanoid units?**"

"**Unknown," **one of its subordinates said.

"I'm right here, boys!" a female voice came. A young girl, grey skinned **confirmed: alien, unsuitable for conversion** was staring at them. "Say, are you guys always so stiff, or are you just pleased to see me?"

"**We are the Cybermen," **The Cyberleader said. "**We do not have emotions.**"

"Well," a different voice said, male, "I don't care what universe you're from, this is a show you won't wanna miss!"

A man in a frilly shirt, with short brown hair and blue eyes, walked up to them. Apart frm the shirt, he was wearing a pink tailcoat, pink trousers and held a pink tophat in his hand.

"Welcome, welcome one and all, to the amazing Leviathan Circus!" he smiled. "I am the Ring Maestro, John C - also known as the incredible wormhole man! Step right up boys and robots, for the thrill of your lives..."

This was illogical and the Cyberleader knew it. But these humanoids were offering to take them to more humanoids and maybe then they would have some answers. No one ever programmed Cybermen on how to deal with this.

A man, with light borwn hair wearing a tuxedo was smiling down at them from a stage.

"Meet the amazing Jonny Smith!" Crichton yelled. "Nuts as hell, but a great singer, actor, impressionist..."

"And maybe he's a great..." the grey girl began.

"No, Chiana," snaped Crichton, before smiling for the Cybermen again. "Sorry, she'd the ticketer, which reminds me..."

He held up a piece of paper.

"Your ticket, my friend."

The Cyberleader stared at it, then followed the man. This was wrong - something was wrong with its internal logic circuits. It tried to diagnose, but then Crichton started speaking.

"And now... he's gonna sing!"

The music started, and then...

_"Frankly, Mr. Shankly, this position I've held, it pays my way, and it corrodes my soul... __I want to leave, you will not miss me. __I want to go down in musical history..."_

Crichton smiled and whispered into his comm.

"Pilot? Starburst?"

"300 microts."

_"Frankly, Mr. Shankly, I'm a sickening wreck, I've got the 21st century breathing down my neck. I must move fast, you understand me. I want to go down in celluloid history, Mr. Shankly..."_

The instrumental riff started, and Chiana got up on stage. The Doctor grabbed her hanmd, spun her around, then just as the riff ended, he threw her aside...

"_Fame, Fame, fatal Fame, It can play hideous tricks on the brain. But still I'd rather be Famous, than righteous or holy, any day, any day, any day..."_

Chiana clapped and laughed. In a couple of makeshift rows, D'argo, Zhaan and Aeryn looked bemused, but they smiled anyway. Rygel was asleep. The Cybermen were beginning to break down, smoke pouring from their joints and heads.

_"But sometimes I'd feel more fulfilled, making Christmas cards with the mentally ill. I want to live and I want to Love. I want to catch something that I might be ashamed of..."_

"That can be arranged," Chiana yelled. The Doctor gave her a dirty look, then continued.

"_Frankly, Mr. Shankly, this position I've held, it pays my way and it corrodes my soul... Oh, I didn't realise that you wrote poetry. I didn't realise you wrote such bloody awful poetry, Mr. Shankly."_

And then, _everybody_ laughed.

"_Frankly, Mr. Shankly, since you ask, you are a flatulent pain in the arse..."_

"He's on about you, Sparky!" Crichton laughed. Rygel woke up, looked around, then snorted and went back to sleep.

_"I do not mean to be so rude. Still, I must speak frankly, Mr. Shankly... Oh, give us your money!"_

And with the end of the song, the Cybermen sparked, fizzed, yelled and collapsed.

"Starburst now!" Pilot yelled.

--

"You mind explaining all that?" Aeryn said. The others nodded with various mumbles of agreement.

"Well," the Doctor smiled, "the Cybermen are highly logical beings..."

"They're robots," Crichton pointed out.

"Nope," the Doctor said. "They're living creatures. Human brains in that metal shell."

The others went eurgh as one, except Zhaan, whose expression of disgust went beyond anything.

"And these... beings, wanted to do that to us?" she asked.

The Doctor nodded. "It's what they do. You're lucky they're so easy to confuse. Anything illogical and they go boom. We're lucky as well that I still have this."

He held up a small device.

"What is that?" Crichton asked.

"A device that removes the idea of acually using weapons from peoples heads," the Doctor smiled. "Theirs - and yours. Stopped youy doing anything dumb, and stopped them from killing me and you."

He put it back in his pocket.

"Now then..." he began. "Where're we heading next?"


	4. I've been working on the Railroad

**Note - from here on in it goes slightly AU.**

--

Where they were headed next actually turned out to be a fight.

The Doctor was in his newly returned TARDIS - the Master hadn't significantly messed anything up, but there were stil several things that needed doing, and urgently. The first thing he knew about the attack was when the ship shuddered.

"Oh typical," he muttered. "What have they got themselves into now...?"

--

He ran onto Command, where Crichton was saying "have we sent the 'don't shoot us, we're pathetic' message yet?" Then the Doctors' gaze was drawn to the ship that was floating about out there. He noted the battle damage, then gave his grim report.

"That's a Halosian ship," he said. "You could say 'don't shoot us, we're carrying nuns, priests and pregnant women,' and they'd still find a reason to shoot at you. They have rudimentary control over their evolution, and for every kill they make, they get a little closer to being a little better."

"So they'll kill us to evolve, despite the fact that we can't fight back?" Aeryn asked.

"Yep."

"Frell."

"That's one way of putting it," the Doctor smiled. "Now, we'd better get out of here..."

"We can', Zhaan is over there!" Aeryn said. The Doctor groaned.

"Typical," he said. "Bloody typical. Have we any defenses?"

"This defense screen," Rygel said from the far end of the room. "You gonna help fix it?"

"Of course, you're supreme eminence," the Doctor grinned, then got his Sonic Screwdriver out.

"Hey, what is that, exactly?" Crichton asked.

"'That', is a complicated bit of machinery designed as the ultimate all-purpose tool," the Doctor said. "I call it a Sonic Screwdriver."

"A Sonic what?" Crichton asked.

"Screwdriver."

"Who looks at a screwdirver and thinks to themselves, 'hm, this could be more sonic'?"

The Doctor glared at him.

"Sometimes," he said, "it's too obvious that you're an American. Damn," he added, looking at the defense screen in frustration. "I nned to go to Pilots Den, that's where I can fix this spacking mess..."

"Spacking?" Aeryn asked.

"Gallifreyan swear word."

"Gallifreyan?"

"Not now."

The Doctor ran off.

--

"I need another cable in here now!" D'argo yelled, just as the Doctor got in.

"No, you need a Doctor," he grinned, and sprinted for the nearest console. "Rassilon, whoever built these things has a hell of a lot to answer for..." he added, looking at the confusing mess of control panels. "The TARDIS makes more sense on a good day..."

"The Halosian ship appears to be marshalling energy to fire!" Pilot warned.

"Defense screen at 62..." the Doctor reported.

"We're gonna be hit!" Chiana yelled...

--

When he snapped his eyes open again, he found himself feeling _more..._ suddenly, when he looked at the ceiling, he could see it now - but he could also sense it yesterday, and for some reason, he could see the ghost of a DRD doing work on it, when he knew no DRD had worked on there for a Cycle.

And Moya wasn't with him.

"I've been working on the railroad, all the live long day..."

He turned his head, to see... to see _himself_ sitting in the den, humming away.

"You know," _he_ said (or rather, some other Pilot, for it could not be him, yet why was it his voice...?) "I don't know why you make such a palava about all this. I've been working on the railroad, just to pass the time away, hey!"

And smiling and humming some more, this _other_ Pilot went back to work.

"Pilot?" came a female, and slightly rough voice. "Are you alright?"

He turned, to see Chiana staring at him, wearing an annoyed expression that she never wore in real life.

"I think," he said slowly, "that I am losing my mind."

"Doubt it," the other Pilot said. "I'm the Doctor, by the way. You're Pilot, in my body, Chiana's in D'argo's body, and D'argo's in Chiana's."

"Oh?" Pilot managed to say. He looked at himself, to see that he was wearing the Doctor's white combat pants/ shirt/ black coat combo. "And... why aren't my senses diminished... I feel... _more_ not less..."

"And why should you feel less?" the Doctor asked from _his_ body."I'm a Time Lord. Technically, I'm more highly evolved than you'll ever be."

"Another time for the arguing, there must be, yes?" came a female voice.

--

John Crichton had never done a Yoda vice before. Then again, he'd never been in a womans body before, so the ability to make high pitched voices was new to him.

"That's impressive," whoever-was-in-Pilots-body said. "Although, saying that, I know Frank Oz, so..."

The Doctor. No one else knew about Yoda.

"What the frell happened?" whoever-was-in-D'argo's body said.

"Isn't that ever-so-slightly-obvious?" the Doctor smirked (which looked very odd on Pilot). "We. Switched. Bodies."

"Frell," Not-D'argo said.

"Look," Crichton said. "I think it's best if - first - we figure out who the hell everyone is."

"That is a top notch suggestion," the Doctor said. "Who are you?"


	5. Parallels

"Spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam..."

The Doctor was whistling away. This was actually very relaxing. Moya was top notch company for a chat and Pilot seemed to be getting a kick out of the Time Lord Superpowers (as the Doctor called them when talking to humans).

"What is that...?" Pilot asked.

"What?" the Doctor queried.

"It looks like Moya is... filled with men in robes..."

The Doctor thought back to the occasional alternate universe visions he had.

"Oh," he said at last, "that's just the universe where Moya becomes a religious temple. You do not wanna know."

"No, I guess I don't..." Pilot said. "What is that in my head? That... buzzing?"

"Hm?" the Doctor puzzled. "The TARDIS I think. It's a buzzing?"

"Yes."

"Oh typical," the Doctor smiled. "She's singing to the new company. Old show off..."

"Yes, I can hear it..." Pilot said. "I think it's called... 19/2000?"

"Oh typical," the Doctor grinned. "Absolutely typical. My favorite Gorillaz song."

Pilot felt the overwhelming urge to sing. He never had before but that didn't stop him now...

_"#It's the music that we choose, it's the music that we choose, it's the music that we choose, it's the music that we choose, it's the..."_

As he sang, Moya started making noise, trying to beat along. It was actually quite beautiful. Then, the Doctor sang.

_"The world is spinning too fast, I'm buying lead Nike shoes to keep myself tethered, to the days I try to lose..." _the Doctor sang, in Piltos body. Pilot realised that he actually, had an alright singing voice. _"My mother said to slow down - you must make your own shoes, and stop listening to the music of Gorillaz in a happy mood, keep a mild groove on..."_

_--_

"What is that frelling noise?" Rygel (in Crichtons body) asked. The musci was coming from Moya, so naturally it was all around them.

"Singing, I think," Crichton (in Aeryn) replied. "Pilot and the Doctor."

"What a time for music," Aeryn (in Rygel) commented. "I mean really. Doesn't he know how frelling serious this is?"

"Knowing what we know of the Doctor," D'argo (in Chiana) pointed out, "I'd say he knows exactly how serious this is, and doesn't care."

"Typical," Rygel said, annoyed. "If it weren't for his impeccable manners when addressing one of the supreme family, I'd have had his head ages ago."

"I heard that," the Doctor - in Pilot - said from the clamshell. "I'll have you know that my singing is very, very important."

"Why?" Crichton asked.

"Because it keeps me happy," the Doctor shrugged (amazing everyone, since no one knew that Pilots could shrug).

"O... kay," Crichton said. "Now, does anyone have any ideas how we get out of this?"

"Funnily enough," the Doctor said, looking resolutely at the ceiling, before dropping his line of sight to look at Crichton, "I may just have a way..."

--

Some time later, after a frankly unnecessary run of technobabble, fiddling about with techno gunbbins, running around, shouting and the Doctor pointing out that he was a Time Lord to a very stupid Halosian commader, the crew were back to normal, sleeping off the effects of their ordeal.

The Doctor was in Pilots den. The Time Lord and the Alien Symbiotic Life Form had some very interesting things to discuss.

"I heard many things," Pilot said. "Terrifying things. Tales that would freeze a beings soul..."

"I'm sorry," the Doctor smiled, truly apologetic. "I had intended for the TARDIS to shield you, but she couldn't."

"What happened to your world, Doctor?" Pilot asked. "I heard something, but..."

"A war," the Doctor replied, simply. "A big war. The last war. To make everything you have seen, and felt, and heard, seem like a childs scrap. The very Vortex itself was ruptured. Billions of alternate realities were born. Trillions. Up until that point, Time was very ordered. My people kept it in check. But with the War... very few were left who could guard time."

"Why does it need guarding?" Pilot asked.

"Because," the Doctor sighed, "there are those who would exploit it."

"Who?"

"Oh," the Doctor shrugged, "people. Lots of people. The Time Lords being extinct now, they can do what they want. But I'm not dead."

And here the Doctor smiled.

"None of me are."

He sat back.

"There were, and are, a million alternate realities, Pilot," he sighed to the alien crustacean. "Billions. But we Time Lords _used_ to be protected. We lived beyond Time. Outside of Time. Alternate realities? Pfft. There was one Doctor. Well, technically, there were Eight of me at the time of the War, but there was only one of each."

He blew a quantity of air through his teeth.

"Now though," he began, then paused. "I have three Ninth Incarnations, at least. Dozens of Tens. At least a hundred Elevens, maybe more. Thousands upon thousands of me's. I don't even know if I'm the original Thirteen, from that original Doctor. I don't know anything anymore."

"It must be confusing," Pilot put in. The Doctor looked at him and smiled.

"Confusing? Yes, it is." He sighed once more, and stood up. "But one cannot mope forever. See you, Pilot."

"Goodbye," the Pilot said.

--

Chiana was on the command deck, bored out of her mind. She looked at the screen, and sighed.

"Just once, I wish something interesting would happen," she said.

She got her wish.

A massive blue/white edifice suddenly opened out in front of the ship. Swirling light, and massive spacial distortions, acompanied it. Chiana looked at it in awe for a moment, then swore.

"Pilot!" she called. "We're heading right for something!"

"A dimensional rift," came a calm, familiar voice. "Oh I should have realised."

Chiana looked, and saw the Doctor - at least, something that she knew was the Doctor.

He was semi transparent, eyes watching the conflagration. He wasn't talking to her, instead addressing his comments to somene she couldn't see.

And there was of course the fact that he looked totally different.

Tall, longish dark hair in a quiff, sideburns, and a brown pinstripe suit.

"Bellisimo," he smiled. "That is a proper rift."

Then he vanished, as more Doctors came through, sometimes accompanied by members of the crew, others by people she didn't revcognise.

"But Doctor," one Crichton, accompanied by a man that Chiana assumed was the Doctor (tall, blue eyes, brown hair, sideburns, brown coat black collar, with a white shirt, red waistcoat and black trousers) and a short female with orange hair and gold skin, of a species that Chiana didn't recognise, "that sort of a rift is a theory of mad scientists! It's Sliding Doors, its Yesterdays Enterprise, it's science fiction!"

"So is Time Travel, alien Empires and Living Spacecraft," this Doctor said. "And yet, here we are," he added, indicating his surroundings.

"What could have caused this?" the golden skinned woman asked. "It's a scientific impossibility if nothing else."

"Scientific possibilities have this annoying knack of becoming scientific reality," this Doctor said. "And that, my dear Sikozu, is what we're facing here and now."

"Couldn't have put it better myself," the Doctor said,m and it was the _right_ Doctor this time. Chiana almost hugged him, but settled for a confused but pointed glance at the various men running around.

"Dontcha just hate parallel universes?" the Doctor smiled. He walked over to a console and pressed a few buttons. "Now, if we could seperate out several extremely different universes..."

Various men vanished.

"...then filter out any near identical ones..."

A handful more vanished.

"...filter out companions..."

Most of the assistants vanished, though the men still looked like they were talking to them.

"...then finally..."

Only fourteen men were left, including guy with golden coat and waistcoat, and the suit guy. In addition, there was an old guy in a black coat, a younger guy in blue shirt and almost the exact same coat, just much scruffier, a tall man with wispy silver hair and velvet jacket, a tall man with wild brown hair and scarf twice his height, wrapped around his neck, younger man, with blonde hair, white coat, and some sort of vegetable in his coat lapel, a guy with curly hair and the worst coat in history, a short guy with a disgusting pullover, a taller man with a lovely waistcoat and frock coat, a man with leather jacket and jeans, and the old Doctor that the current one had regenerated from.

All of whom immediately started yelling.


	6. The one, the only, and the best

"QUIIIIEEET!!!" the Doctor yelled, forcing the others to cover their ears. "Right then."

"Sorry, call me stupid, but… who are all these guys again?" John Crichton asked.

"Me," the Doctor replied. Chiana was sitting on the sidelines, goggle eyed, and the Doctors were now standing perfectly still, waiting for the Thirteenth Doctor – the one the crew of Moya had gotten used to – to say something. Aeryn and D'argo were elsewhere, and they hadn't seen the Doctors yet.

Zhaan was the only one talking, a soft, mumbling conversation with the short Doctor in the horrendous pullover.

"Then I made Death an offer," he was saying. Zhaan was listening intently.

"Ahem," Thirteen said. "I'd really rather get on with this. Not the time," he added, with a poignant look at the little Doctor. The little Doctor looked shocked for a moment, then nodded.

"Right then," Thirteen said. "I wanted to gather you all here so that you could get a general idea. First, most importantly – parallel universes."

"Yes, we had noticed," the Doctor in Patchwork said.

"Second – I need all of you to make a reverse-bandwith secondary ultra-sonic Anti Time Rift De-Energiser on your Moya's or equivalent Leviathans."

"Easy as," the Doctor in velvet said. "Just need to reverse the polarity of the…"

"Don't say it," the young man with the vegetable on his lapel cut him off. "Just… don't."

"And Third – I need to find out what the bloody hell caused this, so you lot are gonna have to be observant," Thirteen said. "That's O-B-S-E-R-V-A-N-T."

"Yes, we do know how to spell, young man," the old Doctor said. "Now can we get on with it?"

"Spoilsport," the younger man with the same coat (albeit scruffier) said.

"Right," Thirteen said. "I'll get to work sending you back home, then."

He stepped towards the console and started pressing buttons, the other Doctors going back to their work. Chiana approached the Doctor she knew, apart from the one that the Thirteenth had come from.

"Hi," she said to the man with the big nose, leather jacket and the sticky-out ears. He looked at her, then nodded.

"We've met," she continued. He looked at her again, then turned back to look out the screen at the various different Moya's floating about.

"Well?" she asked. He looked at her, then grinned.

"Thirteen looks happy here," he said. "I'm glad. I don't wanna be miserable forever."

"What happened to you?" Chiana asked. He stopped grinning, then looked back out the screen.

"Big fight. Lotsa death," he said. "Too much. I go all over now. Try to help people when I can. You," he added, looking at her. "You and your mate."

"Brother," she put in quickly.

"Yeah," the Doctor said. "I'm Nine," he added, holding out his hand.

"Chiana," she smiled, taking his hand and shaking it.

"It'll be an honour knowing ya," he smiled, before suddenly fading away.

All the Doctors had faded away, apart from one. The man in the golden coat, white shirt and red waistcoat was still there.

"What?" he said. "Why am I still here?"

Thirteen looked at him for am moment, then out the screen.

"Oh, no," he said, horrified. The other Doctor spun around, and looked out of the window, then almost cried.

One of the Moya's was burning. The ship was dying, you could tell, but the other Doctor almost ran towards the screen, but before he could, the ship exploded, a shockwave expanding outwards.

"It's gone," Thirteen said. The other Doctor looked at it in horror, tears streaming down his face.

"No…" he murmured.

"Commander Crichton," Pilot's voice came through the clamshell. "There is something wrong."

"What's wrong, Pilot?" Crichton asked.

"There are armed intruders on the lower decks," Pilot informed him. "Officer Sun and Ka D'argo are already on their way…"

"I'll sort it," the other Doctor said. "Chiana!"

The young Nebari looked at her Doctor, who locked eyes with the other Doctor. Then he nodded.

"Chiana, go with him," he said. "Do whatever he tells you."

Chiana nodded, and ran after the other Doctor.

"Hey wait!" she called. He stopped dead, and handed her his Sonic… thing.

"Hold that," he said. Then he set off again, leaving her to follow.

--

The door had been sealed against the armed intruder, and the Doctor had told them help was on the way, but Aeryn and D'argo weren't too happy about it. They hadn't seen much of the intruders, but they weren't happy about what they had seen. The door would give way any minute…

"Alright, alright!" a voice yelled, and a man in a long golden coat appeared. He wore a white shirt, red waistcoat, and black trousers as well as the coat, and had longish brown hair. "Don't worry! Stand back. "What have we got here then?"

"Who the frell are you?" Aeryn asked. Chiana was behind the man, but Aeryn took no notice. The man turned on her, and his eyes were red, as if he had been crying, but also shining, in triumph, and his voice was strong, and assured.

"I'm the Doctor!" he said. "Simply the Doctor! The one, the only… and the best!"

He turned to Chiana, who looked at him expectantly.

"Chiana, give me the Sonic Screwdriver," he ordered. She did so. "Now quickly – get these people back to command."

"Who the frell do you think you are?" D'argo yelled.

"If you could stand back sir, this is a job for a Time Lord," the Doctor grinned.

Then the door gave way, and the Doctor looked at the seven foot tall silver thing, with it's massive arms, powerful frame and big sword, in a mixture of trepidation and appreciation.

"Oho, that's new," he said, holding out his sonic screwdriver. "Allonsy!"

He pressed a button, but the thing batted him aside.

It stood over D'argo, and looked right down on him. It swung it's sword down, but D'argo parried. Aeryn shot at it, but to no avail.

"Sorry, wrong setting!" the Doctor called, and suddenly, the thing froze up, and collapsed. The Doctor sauntered over to it.

"Fully converted Luxan-Cyberman," he said in awe. "Mad, poor thing. Luxan will, combined with the raw insanity of the truth of what a Cyberman is must have shorted out its systems."

"That's a Cyberman?" Aeryn asked.

"Yes," the Doctor said. "And a specific kind. Poor thing. That, I think, is an alternate you, Ka D'argo."

D'argo looked at it in horror.

"Me?"

"You," the Doctor sighed, "in a universe where I was not there to save Moya from the Cybermen."

"How can you tell?" Aeryn asked.

"The sword," the Doctor said simply. "Look at the sword."

"That's horrific," Chiana said, as D'argo looked at the sword. He examined it, then sighed.

"It is mine," he said. "There's no doubt."

"Then you doubtless killed a lot of Cybermen before you went," the Doctor replied, smiling, before walking off. "Come along, we have a massive, multidimensional rift to fix."


	7. I know who's behind this

The Doctor flicked another switch, continuing to look at the rift.

"I have a very bad feeling about this," he murmured. Something more was going on here.

"Why?" Zhaan asked. "Surely this is routine for you?"

"Because this is wrong," the Doctor said, ignoring her last comment. "Parallel universes are sealed from one another. This sort of thing is impossible. Completely. So no," he added. "Not routine."

"Obviously it isn't impossible," Crichton said. "Then again, I've learned that very little is impossible 'round here."

"Oh but it is impossible," the Doctor said, concern threaded through his voice. "Unless… someone…"

"Someone made it?" another voice said. The other Doctor came up to command, Aeryn, D'argo and Chiana behind him. "Funny, I was thinking the exact same thing."

"But who could make a great big time rifty thing?" Crichton asked. "There can't be many people who can do that."

"There are – a hell of a lot of people," the other Doctor said. "Too many of which were… well. Nasty."

"Big understatement," the Doctor put in. "Bloody big understate –"

--

"-ment."

The place had changed – almost imperceptible, but he was a Time Lord – he could find a needle in a haystack if he really wanted to.

The other Doctor was now a man with slicked back black hair and silver sideburns, wearing a black Edwardian ensemble, Chiana was wearing a long black coat, and a golden skinned woman was where Zhaan had been, checking a console readout.

The universes were merging. No, that wasn't it – it was him. He was flitting through the parallels. All of them. But _that _was impossible… unless…

--

And then Chiana's coat vanished, as did the other Doctor, and the Doctor felt something else was different.

He looked down at his sleeve – brown pinstripe.

"Oh, whoa," he said. "Whoa, whoa, whoa…"

His consciousness was jumping around. Ok, there were various possibilities… parallel consciousness? Temporal instability? Chances were it was his… for want of a better term, his Time Lord super powers. Yes, that made sense. No scratch that, it didn't make sense, when did his life ever make sense?

--

Chiana watched the Doctor freeze in indecision. Then he looked up, eyes shining, in both triumph and horror.

"I know who's behind this," he said. "Oh no…"

--

The universe he had jumped to to find out was by far the worst.

He was the Ninth Doctor. Leather jacket flapping, longer than he remembered. wing collar shirt and red cravat open and blowing at his neck, wind bowing through command. He saw an image of Pilot dying in the clamshell, skeleton visible. The golden skinned woman dead. Chiana being exterminated. D'argo and Crichton, pinned down in the corridor, and in front of him...

Davros.

"Doctor," he said, simply. "I expected you to be here."

"Did ya?" the Doctor said. "Did ya really? You've made a big hole in time, and now…"

"Now," Davros smiled, "I destroy countless realities. My Daleks invade the multiverse, using the Leviathans as - Trojan Horses? Is that the human term?"

"Yeah," the Doctor confirmed grimly.

"Then they will conquer endless multiverses," Davros said. "Starting with this one, naturally. Now Doctor – a moment I have awaited for countless millennia."

A Dalek came forward. It's gun twitched. The Doctor closed his eyes.

--

Then when he opened them, Chiana and the Golden Skinned woman were staring at him.

"Doctor?" the golden girl said. He felt like he was Ten, and a glance at his sleeves confirmed that.

"Right, golden girl," he said to the golden girl, in absentia of a proper name. "Raise the defence screen. Gotta keep the Daleks out…"

But as he looked at the screen, at the burning ship, he knew it was too late. They were coming for him. Coming for all of them.

--

Then he was thirteen again. Looking out at the multiverses. Quickly, he looked at the clamshell, Pilot gazing at him in concern.

"Transmit to every Moya you can!" he yelled. Pilot looked dumbfounded, so the Doctor sighed. "You have to trust me!"

The other Doctor looked at him in shock.

"Who is it?" he asked. The Doctor looked at him, and suddenly, he _was_ him. And he was looking at himself, looking at himself…

Then he was back in himself. And the other Doctor understood perfectly.

"What am I transmitting, Doctor?" Pilot asked. The Doctor ran to the shell.

"Put me through," he said, then the screen went blank, and the Doctor assumed he was on. "It's the Daleks. Millions of them. If they've already boarded you, self destruct. If they haven't, run, hide, get out of here. Fast. Their plan involves a Moya, or whatever your Leviathan is called, and you need – and I mean _need_ – to stop them. To you, the crews of Moya – I need you to trust me. To you, Doctors. Good luck."

--

And then he was another Ten, in a blue suit. Donna was with him.

"Parallel universes," she was saying. "This is starting to get annoying."

"More so for me," the Doctor sighed. "Can we raise the defense screen in time?"

"Yes, Doctor," the Pilot was saying – it was a different Pilot, sounded older, female. "I wouldn't worry. Myself and Moya have been doing this for decades."

"Good for you and Moya," Donna muttered. "Some of us are still getting used to it."

The Doctor ran to look at the still burning Daek controlled ship. He saw thousands of Daleks flying out of it, heading for the nearby Moya's – most of which, to their credit, were destroying themselves.

"The alternative is too horrible," he said slowly. "I'm so sorry."

--

And then he was back in the Thirteenth body.

"Right," he said. "Time for a plan."


	8. My Second Exile Is Over

"So, run by me just who the hell the Daleks are?" Crichton asked. "I mean…"

The Doctors – both of them – looked up at him, annoyance plain on their faces, and to John's surprise, so did the others.

"There're a legend," Aeryn said. "Like Bagoo Men are to humans."

"Bogeymen," both the Doctors replied before John could say anything. "And they're not Bogeymen," added the Thirteenth Doctor. "They're far worse. Genetically engineered murderers, in Dalekanium armour. Destroyers."

"Legend had it that they were the destroyers of whole systems," D'argo said. "That they fought a war against the guardians of light, and were annihilated."

"Sort of, yes," the Other Doctor said. "They fought a war in the heavens, against my people, and died trying to kill those who resided there."

The Thirteenth Doctor looked at him, oddly.

"What incarnation are you?" he asked.

The Other Doctor looked at him, and sighed.

"Too long a story," he said. "Far too long."

The Thirteenth Doctor wanted to know, though, so he held up his hands. Realising what the Doctor intended, the Other Doctor sighed, and submitted, and the Doctor grabbed his head, and sifted through his mind.

And suddenly, the tale was regaled him. The man, Jackson Lake, who had been so happy, had lost everything. His wife and son were murdered by the Cybermen. In despair, and with the help of a backfiring info-stamp or two, he had assumed the identity of the Doctor, and had sought to battle the Cybermen. The real Doctor, though, had come to aid him, unknowingly – but had been killed in battle against the Cyber-King. Despairing once more, Lake, searching far and wide, and nearly killing himself by using the info-stamps on himself, had found the Doctors TARDIS, repaired it, and somehow assumed the identity of the Doctor on a wider scale. But his grief threatened to consume him, and so he had, in grief, gone exploring – avoiding Earth. Thus, he had ended up on Moya, and gladly stayed there, grateful for the rest. Until now.

He had been reckless, too. Experimented with the Chameleon Arch, and used it to alter his own DNA – he had become a Time Lord, and discarded the human DNA happily – it was not who he wanted to be. That explained how the Doctor had shifted into him. He was the 'Next' Doctor, of sorts. His replacement.

Then Lake had studied the late Doctors adventures and library, becoming – while not exactly fluent – at least intelligent enough to have rudimentary control. And wanderlust was his forte. But he had lost so much, that the true Doctor could not help but pity him.

"Oh," the Doctor said. "I am sorry."

"So am I," the Lake-Doctor smiled. "Sorry for his death. But he lives on as me, and I as him."

"Right," the Doctor said, a grin widening over his face. "Well. Doctor. We have a universe to save."

"Oh, well," the Lake-Doctor grinned. "That's easy. Pilot!"

"Yes, Doctor?" Pilot asked. The Lake-Doctor quickly did some mental calculations, and as he had been a mathematics teacher, that was not so difficult.

"How difficult would it be for Moya to generate a central-ultra high temporal frequency wave pulse?" he asked, speaking very quickly. Pilot raised an eyebrow.

"I do not know," he said truthfully. "I am unaware of what those things are."

The Doctors sighed.

"Here, lets just build one," the Doctor said.

"Agreed," the Lake-Doctor said. "Now then…"

--

After roughly half an arn, there it was. Both the Doctors had been jumping around, but now, they were done.

It was a big thing, built from scavenged parts from the TARDIS junkyards. Green light, corally texture.

"Will that thing work?" Chiana asked, eyeing it suspiciously.

"It better do," the Lake-Doctor said. "We've built five thousand, thousand, on every other Moya."

To the blank looks, the Thirteenth Doctor merely shrugged. "I'll explain later," he said.

He grinned, then he flicked a switch. The room suddenly glowed with a white light, glowing brighter, and brighter...

"Ready!" the Other Doctor yelled.

"NOW!" yelled Thirteen.

And then the light vanished.

The Doctors ran to the screen. The light was spreading across the universe, each and every other Moya vanishing into the darkness, the rift itself vanishing. The two Doctors smiled. The Daleks that were spreading like a plague across the space vanished too, destroyed by the pure energy. Only thirty three Moya's, including the one of their origin, had been destroyed. Out of countless billions, that was a small price to pay. The Daleks were defeated, without ever having to set eyes on the ugly mutant monstrosities.

"Multiverses saved," the Doctor grinned.

"Daleks defeated," the Lake-Doctor added.

"A job well done," the Doctor finished. "Oh yes."

He noticed that the Lake-Doctor still looked a little sad. Too sad. His Moya, his world, his TARDIS – they were all gone. Nonetheless, he too was smiling. The Doctor smiled with him – for them, this was a good days work well done. Then the Doctor looked at his suddenly bleeping sonic screwdriver, and smiled.

"This day," he grinned, "just keeps getting better."

--

The TARDIS looked different.

Obviously it didn't, but to the others, used to seeing it as just a dead piece of wood, it suddenly looked – and almost felt – alive.

"The regeneration cycle is complete," the Doctor grinned. He walked over to it, and placed a hand on it. "The TARDIS is fixed!"

"What does that mean?" Lake asked.

"That means that my Second Exile on Moya is over," the Doctor said, only a hint of sadness in his joyful tone. He stroked the wood, then turned to Chiana, who was watching him intently.

"Come with me," he said to her. "I have adventures, fun, you're always in danger here anyway."

She thought about it long and hard, but shook her head, throwing a glance at her friends.

"As much as I want to, I have a life here," she said. "I don't wanna leave it."

The Doctor sighed, but nodded with a smile. Then he turned to Lake.

"No," Lake said. "I want to remain. This Moya will need a guardian angel, now, and it might as well be me."

"I can think of none better," the Doctor smiled. Because he remembered his own universes Jackson Lake. A good man. "If anyone had to be the Doctor, Jackson, I'm glad it was you. Doctor," he added.

"Oh, no," Jackson grinned, waving the title away, but the Doctor grabbed his hand.

"Listen to me," he said. "You. Earned. It."

He grinned, and Jackson smiled.

"Thank you, Doctor," he said.

"No, thank you Doctor," the Doctor said. Then he went inside the TARDIS, and the great box dematerialised from Moya. The others watched in silence, then Jackson Lake – the Doctor – clapped his hands together, and smiled.

"Who's for tea?" he asked.

--

On a peacekeeper command carrier some way away, a Captain Soren looked at the screen.

Space was big, he knew. Huge. But one day, all the Gods willing, it would all know the name 'Peacekeeper'. He swore it.

Dressed in long leather coat, black leather undershirt and black trousers, the only incongruous thing about him was the little watch on a chain he wore, which he said reminded him that 'time is as much an enemy as Scarran or Nebari'.

Even though he never opened it.

Even though he thought it was broken.

Even though, deep in his mind, he heard the sound that made that watch something more sinister.

_Duh, duh, duh dum. Duh, duh, duh dum. Duh, duh, duh dum. Duh, duh, duh dum._

He was seeking something. Rumours of a nameless entity, who went by a title. Rumours of a being who could travel in time.

"I will find the Doctor," he murmured. "If it's the last thing I do."

And somehow, those words were not unfamiliar…

**To be continued in: Drums.**

**Thank you for reading.**


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